


he blinded me with science!

by buckgaybarnes



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Biology Kink, Blow Jobs, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Inspired by that one deleted scene, M/M, Mild Crack ?, Post-Movie: Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018), Sexual Roleplay, i really hate that i had to type that, vague allusions to a Newt Recovery Arc that i was too lazy to explore. they just bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 07:23:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14995775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckgaybarnes/pseuds/buckgaybarnes
Summary: Newton, when he finds out, treats the whole thing as a personal affront. As if Hermann deliberately concealed it from him then, and has been going out of his way to conceal it from him now.(or: newt maybe, absolutely has a thing for hermann wielding chainsaws)





	he blinded me with science!

**Author's Note:**

> if you follow me on literally any social media platform you'll know i've spent the last 24 hours in a horny haze brought on by the intense, raw eroticism of hermann gottlieb saying "i'm going to need a chainsaw" and sometimes, man, you gotta work through that shit by writing smut. thank you, mr gorman, for consistently making me reconsider my self-identification as a lesbian
> 
> i may have also randomly thrown in a line about mako just to keep pushing the "mako is alive" agenda, regardless of plot relevance, steven deknight dont interact

Newton, when he finds out, treats the whole thing as a personal affront. As if Hermann deliberately concealed it from him then, and has been going out of his way to conceal it from him now.

Hermann doesn't even mean to bring it up in the first place—it's all Newton's doing. Newton, still so fragile, still so closed off, still too nervous to venture beyond their apartment door most days. He simply wanted to know how Hermann began to catch on that it was him behind the events of the Whole Fiasco (as Hermann's mentally dubbed it), and Hermann—always eager to indulge and engage Newton in whatever conversation he wants these days—brought up the kaiju brain salvaged from the wreckage of the drone and, naturally, the chainsaw.

"A chainsaw?" Newton says, mouth hanging open. They're at breakfast, and Newton stops in the middle of methodically cutting a piece off his fried egg. "You used a _chainsaw_ on the brain?"

Hermann knows to be gentle with Newton these days, but he can't help but feel a small twinge of personal affront over Newton, possibly, suggesting _error_ in his scientific methods. The brain was large and boasted a thick membrane. The chainsaw was the obvious course of action. It was a fantastically cathartic experience, as well, which is nothing to be downplayed in the grand scheme. "It was the most effective tool at my disposal," Hermann sniffs. Assuming Newton's issue is with his lack of respect for the sample or some other nonsense he would've spouted back in their Hong Kong days, he adds "I wasn't feeling particularly charitable towards it, you know, and I'm certainly not  _now_ , so don't try to lecture—"

"It's not that," Newton says, eyes still wide. "I just can't picture you doing anything so... _messy_."

The Hermann of ten years ago wouldn't have. The Hermann of now has a bit too much Newton Geiszler lurking about in the back of his brain with a good deal of his biology skills to boot. "I took precautions, obviously," Hermann says. Unlike Newton, who scarcely remembered to even roll up his sleeves most days in their old lab. "I wore an apron. And gloves."

"An apron and gloves," Newton echoes, faintly.

"And a mask," Hermann adds. Safety is important.

"And a mask." Newton hasn't given him a look like this in a long while, and especially not over the kitchen table. His knuckles are nearly white around his fork. "I bet—" he swallows audibly. "I bet you you got covered in kaiju blue, huh? Apron and gloves got all—messed up?"

"I suppose I did," Hermann says, recalling the day with a good deal of discomfort. He tries not to think too much about The Fiasco, especially not now that he has Newton back and—mostly—recovered. He wouldn't have even had to dissect the brain in the first place if Newton had been himself, had been there, and—but it's no matter. Newton is here, now, drinking coffee with Hermann in their apartment with matching silver bands around their fingers, and that's what's important.

"Chainsaw too?" Newton's voice is far too casual. Hermann grows suspicious.

"Yes," he says, "but I don't see why any of this really matters." Newton squirms uncomfortably in his seat, eyes dark behind his glasses, and complete and total understanding suddenly hits Hermann like a freight train. He chokes on his badly-timed sip of coffee. "Are you getting _aroused_ by this?"

"Hermann," Newton says, with a sigh that's almost relieved, "I popped a massive boner the second you said 'chainsaw'."

Hermann reddens, still wheezing and coughing. "Don't be so crass."

"I'm not," Newton says. "I'm one hundred percent telling the truth here, dude. Look." He stands up quickly before Hermann can dissuade him, hands on his pajama-clad hips to display—well, Newton isn't lying. It's certainly an impressive erection. Hermann stares. "Thinking about you getting all furious and messy on kaiju is, like, really hot," Newton says. "I mean _really_ hot. Uh. Do you. Still have the apron?"

"I threw it out," Hermann says, for lack of anything else to say. "Biohazard. Gloves too.”

"Biohazard," Newton agrees. He's thrumming with energy, tongue darting out across his lips. "We can get you another one," he mutters. "And gloves. And—" he bites on his bottom lip. "The, uh, chainsaw."

"Another one?" Hermann says.

"I have an idea," Newton says.

  
  
It's a terrible, awful idea, frankly, but Newton sways him over easily over the next few days with little pouts and looks and a good deal of kissing. So, Hermann doesn't make a peep when—on their next run out for groceries—Newton deposits a simple white apron and a pair of red dish gloves in the cart. (Hermann had divulged the specific details of his foray into xenobiology during a particularly intense session of mutual handjobs, to Newton's  _great_ pleasure.) "I ordered the chainsaw online," he explains, fidgeting in that antsy way he has that lets Hermann know he's trying to hide how turned on he is. In the middle of a department store, at that. He's quite lucky Hermann is unbearably fond of him. "Halloween prop."

"I know you did," Hermann sighs, “it was with my credit card.” He also turns a blind eye as Newton tosses some Pop-Tarts and a few bags of marshmallows into the cart. Newton went so long on a strict Precursor-regimented fitness routine and diet that Hermann can't say no to anything that might help him gain some of his old softness around the middle back. "I also know you tried to order a real one first. I got the automatic PPDC alert, Newton." He's, perhaps, stretching the truth a bit; it was less an automatic alert and more an exasperated email from Miss Mori, but Newton could stand to have a reminder of the important PPDC-mandated policy of not appearing suspicious.

Newton pouts. "I don't know what nefarious shit they expect me to pull," he says. "It's not like I go anywhere without you. I'm not gonna Texas Chainsaw Massacre your ass or anything."

"Regardless," Hermann says, and glances around to make sure no one's within earshot, then lowers his voice anyway, "you're not bringing a real chainsaw into our _bedroom_."

"Obviously I'd take the blade off first!"

  
  
The Halloween chainsaw, when it comes in, is splattered with fake bright red blood that Newton spends a day meticulously covering up with a more appropriate shade of kaiju blue. (He mixes the fake kaiju blue himself—some heinous-smelling mix of thick glitter glue, cornstarch, nail polish, and dark blue paint that he promptly stains the kitchen sink with.) He also splatters a bit of it on the front of the white apron. "I'd do the gloves, too," he explains, as they sit together on the sofa that night and watch decades-old _House Hunters_ reruns, "but I don't really want that crap up my ass.”

"Bit presumptuous, aren't you?" Hermann says, adjusting his glasses, and then  _hmphs_ at the television set. "That is far too much floorspace for a family of their size."

"Not presumptuous," Newton says, "optimistic." He snuggles in closer under Hermann's arm. "Way beyond their price range, too."

 

The pseudo-welding mask comes in a few days later. "We wouldn't have to do this if you'd just invited me the first time, you know," Newton says once he explains the little scenario he's concocted for them, pulling the mask from the packaging. Hermann doesn't mention that he had, in fact, tried very hard, but Newton was otherwise—not in his right mind. "And then you went and told me about it like it wouldn't be the sexiest thing ever—"

"I just don't understand _why_ you think it's the 'sexiest thing ever'," Hermann says.

"Hermann," Newton says slowly, "what are the two things I love most in the world? I'm gonna answer for you. I love _you_ , and I love _biology_. Combining the two and throwing in a fucking _chainsaw_?” He whistles slowly. When Hermann looks at him blankly, he continues. “Just, like, picture combining me with your raging math boner. Writing out equations naked or something."

" _Oh_ ," Hermann says. He has to admit Newton has a point. The thought of Newton, nude, lovely, vibrant, standing at one of Hermann's chalkboards and writing out long strings of numbers with Hermann's chalk— "Yes," he says. "This makes—perfect sense."

"Are you turned on right now," Newton says in low voice, "because I'm kinda—"

"Yes," Hermann says, voice equally low. "Get me the apron." Newton scrambles to the bedroom.  
  
Hermann feels only a bit ridiculous, standing over their bed like this: stripped down to his undershirt and boxers, apron and gloves on, mask pulled down, wrestling with both supporting himself on his cane and handling the large Halloween chainsaw. Newton arranged a few of their pillows into a little lump on the bed and told him to pretend it was a kaiju brain, and to use the chainsaw on it as he did with the real one—Hermann rolled his eyes, but Newton looked downright predatory, so he didn’t say something sarcastic like he very badly wanted to. Newton leaves the bedroom for a few minutes before he re-enters in his usual jeans-and-shirt getup.

"Are you Dr. Gottlieb?" he says, with feigned, wide-eyed innocence. "The biologist?"

"Ah," Hermann says, lifting the mask up, and realizes Newton's already hard, "yes?"

"I'm your new lab partner," Newton says, frozen in the doorway with his eyes fixed on the red gloves, the fake chainsaw. "Dr. Geiszler. I—" He licks his lips. Hermann waits for him to speak his next self-scripted line, but Newton makes an odd, strangled groan, and then starts shucking off his boots and yanking at his tie. "Okay, shit, I'm too turned on to do the whole thing," he says, half-stumbling across the room to knock the pillows aside and kneel on the bed in front of Hermann. He starts kissing him fiercely, thrusting his tongue into Hermann's mouth; he slides his hands up Hermann's arms and reaches around to grope his ass, the fake chainsaw squished between them.

Newton slides his mouth along Hermann's jaw, breathing heavily, and Hermann shivers and sways dangerously. "Dr. Gottlieb," Newton says, "you gonna—you gonna use that nice big chainsaw on me?"

"It's hardly sanitary, Dr. Geiszler," Hermann moans and Newton slips his hand under the apron and palms at the front of Hermann's briefs, squeezing and feeling the shape of him.

"Goddamn," Newton says, grinding his hand down faster, and licks at Hermann's pulse point, "goddamn, Hermann, you look so sexy, shit—" He's babbling, barely making sense, and Hermann goes easily when Newton pulls him down onto the bed, tossing aside the fake chainsaw to the floor. Newton arranges his limbs carefully, kissing and stroking his bad leg and muttering swears, still rubbing his other hand over Hermann's erection through the cotton fabric.

Hermann wants to run his fingers through Newton's nice and soft-looking hair, so he starts to tug off one of the heavy red gloves. Newton notices and sits up quickly. "No," he says, "no, dude, leave them on—" He inches up the bed and drags one of Hermann's gloved hands to his face, nuzzling into it. "They're _hot,_ I'm about to—to fucking jizz myself here, dude," Newton pants, licking the rubber, and he sucks on Hermann's index finger before—without warning—ducking his head down under the apron to mouth at Hermann through his briefs.

Hermann's hands fly to Newton's shoulders. " _Newton_ ," he breathes, and Newton gets more excited, starts licking and sucking through the fabric. He feels Newton tug down his briefs, feels his warm breath on his cock. He wishes he could pull up the apron enough to see Newton, but Newton was very adamant about—Newton licks up his cock and Hermann stops thinking about anything else altogether. "Oh—" Newton makes an eager noise and licks up and down again, flicks his tongue across the head a few times.

"You're a—really fucking sexy biologist," Newton pants, voice muffled to the extent that he's barely audible, "holy shit. I'm just picturing shoving you onto my old dissection table and—" He trails off, tongues the slit of Hermann's cock, then kisses it messily. “—and just—” Hermann clutches his shoulders tighter as Newton sucks the head into his mouth with a loud, wet noise, and Hermann swears.

"Newton," he sighs, "oh, that's—" He runs one of his hands through Newton's hair, the rubber glove dragging, and Newton yelps something indistinguishable in encouragement and sucks more of Hermann into his mouth. He can feel the saliva running down Newton's chin with each movement down his cock, and he pulls Newton's hair as both Newton's sucking and his deep, throaty moans get more frantic. Hermann’s embarrassed he’s getting this overwhelmed this fast, but he’s old, after all, and at least Newton is just as caught up in it. " _Newton—_ " Newton swallows him down when he comes and scarcely gives himself a second to catch his breath before he's sitting up on his knees and shoving his pants and boxers down around his thighs.

"Oh, fuck," Newton whines as he starts jerking himself off just as frantically, eyes roaming across Hermann's flushed face, his faux-kaiju blue-splattered apron. "Hermann, Hermann, I'm gonna, fucking," Hermann, still breathing hard, covers Newton's hand to help him finish, and the second he brushes the glove against Newton’s hard cock Newton whimpers and comes in long stripes across Hermann's apron. Newton moans when he sees the mess he's made.

"Oh, _fuck_ , that's hot," he says, as Hermann looks down at himself in mild disgust. "Look how messy you are. Shit." Newton slides his fingers through the tacky mess of the apron and licks his lips, and he's fidgeting in that familiar way once more. Hermann stares in disbelief. There's no _possible_ way Newton could be ready again. "Hey,” he says, glancing down purposefully at Hermann’s soft cock, “uh—”

"Thirty minutes," Hermann sighs, begrudgingly looking forward to it. "At least."

“Oh, my God, I love you,” Newton says, swooping down to kiss him. “Next time I’ll dress up like a sexy physicist.”

**Author's Note:**

> as always: hermanngaylieb on twitter, hermannsthumb on tumblr (where i sometimes post other fic!)


End file.
